


a trouble that he can't see

by nosecoffee



Series: kids are still depressed when you dress them up [5]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Can Heidi be MY mom?, Comedy, Fluff, Heidi however is, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Larry Is Trying His Best, Larry is not aware of Connor's powers, M/M, Minor Angst, New Conspiracy: Connor didn't finish the milk, Secret Identity, Some humour, Spiderman AU, Super-Healing, Superheros, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Kinda Funny, father-son bonding, minor blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 21:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11975127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: "And how, may I ask, did you sustain such an injury, at a public library, at one in the morning?"Connor looks out the passenger window. He's more relaxed now. Larry's trying not to look at the blood gathering on his seat. "If you would believe it, a shelf fell on me."(Or, Connor definitely has super-healing, being Spiderman and all, but Larry's angry and taking him to the hospital, so it's not like he has much of a choice, is it?)





	a trouble that he can't see

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Pants Song" from Be More Chill
> 
> WHASSUP, I WROTE SOME SUPPORTIVE LARRY! ARE YOU PROUD? I NEEDED THIS! YOU PROBABLY NEED THIS, TOO! PLEASE ENJOY!

It's been rough, Larry will say that much. Connor's as cold as ever, but in the last few months or so, he seems to be warming up a little more - actually joining them at dinner, not baiting Larry or Cynthia at the table, no door slamming at bedtime, anymore, or screaming on his part.

He's been more civil with Zoe. Especially after the incident at school. (If Larry can be truly thankful about any of it, he's most thankful for the quiet friendship that seems to be growing there. He thought they'd kill each other.)

Larry wants to take this as a good sign, that something has changed in his son - that the reckless martyr his soul portrayed for so long had finally given up. Wants to believe that Connor's finally settled into being a normal kid in this fucked up town.

Larry knows he's wrong the minute Connor stumbles into the house, in the middle of the night, gripping his leg and hissing. Larry noticed he was gone from nearly the minute he snuck out.

Connor shimmied down the drainpipe by the master bedroom, loudly, and knocked over the garbage can. It wasn't like Larry could've ignored it, even if he wanted to. (A few months ago, he might've.)

He's honestly a little surprised that Connor actually thought he'd get away with it.

Larry's waiting for him in the kitchen, because he knows that Connor is either hungry or hurt, and the gauze is in the shelf above the sink.

"So," Larry begins as Connor's trying to reach the first aid kit, with one leg outstretched insanely straight, on the bench by the sink - Connor used to do dance, as a kid, but Larry didn't think he had retained any of that knowledge.

Connor jumps, the first aid box clattering into the sink. "Dad." He sighs, in half-shock and half-relief, and, now, Larry sees the gash going down his leg. It's deep. And dripping on the floor. The red is very stark, especially on the white tiles.

His backpack is sitting by the sink, unzipped. There's blood on that too. The front of his leg is simultaneously better than the back, and worse. It's bruised, and there seem to be more little cuts. There's a long pink line across the front of his thigh, paralell to the cut on the back, like a healing scar.

Larry stares.

Connor stoops down, quickly, and zips his bag up.

"Connor, _what the fuck?"_ This is worse than the rapidly fading bruises, worse than the sarcasm, worse than the poison in his eyes.

This is real, and serious, and now, and Larry may not always be there, but he's here right now.

"Get in the car." He says, in a stern voice, getting up.

If Connor's eyes got any wider, they'd be as round as saucers. As if he didn't expect Larry to care all that much. "Dad-" he starts to say, as if he's going to say that _it's not as bad as it looks,_ and that Larry _should go back to bed,_ and _let Connor take care of it himself._

Larry feels a surge of anger, but pushes it down, fitting his feet into his slippers. He pulls his keys off the counter and points at the door. "Get in the car; we are going to the hospital." He says, voice even more solid. He's not going to let Connor play this off.

He let the black eye go. He let the bruised ribs go. He let the dried blood in his hairline go. He let the split lip go.

He shouldn't have.

Connor relents. "Can I at least put some pants on?" He gestures to his briefs - not exactly modest, being blue and covered in cartoon ghosts.

"And get blood all over them?" Larry asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean..." Connor seems to consider this.

 _"Go."_ Larry points at the door, keys jangling.

Connor obediently trudges out to the car, backpack slung over this shoulder, and there are so many questions hurling themselves at the forefront of Larry's mind, but the main one is how is Connor not wincing with ever step he takes? Larry can see the blood running down his leg, and it's getting faster. Larry should have brought some tissues with him.

He doesn't know if that's what's right. He doesn't know if he's supposed to do that, or if that causes infection.

Connor sits himself down primly in the passenger seat, backpack in the footwell. Larry has to turn down the political talk show on the radio when the engine starts. Connor jumps at the volume, looking on edge.

Larry's never had to take Connor to the hospital before. Cynthia's always been the one to do that, or the ambulance was always already there.

 _Oh, Lord,_ Larry thinks, _Cynthia's going to freak._

"Mind telling me what you did to get such a nasty cut?" Larry asks.

Connor winces.

"I, uh..." He seems stuck on what to say, eyes flitting around the car as Larry tries to drive the speed limit. "It's kinda complicated, see..."

Connor trails off.

Larry doesn't know what to do. "How about you start with where you snuck out to?" Connor's grimace deepens.

"The, uh, the library." He says, and then curses under his breath. Larry has never been more confused, in his life.

"At one in the morning?" He inquires, turning a corner without indicating. Connor, always the nitpicker, doesn't seem to notice.

"It's twenty-four hours now, didn't you know?" He seems more confident now.

"And how, may I ask, did you sustain such an injury, at a public library?"

Connor looks out the passenger window. He's more relaxed now. Larry's trying not to look at the blood gathering on his seat. "If you would believe it, a shelf fell on me."

"What?" Larry says.

"A shelf fell on me." Connor repeats.

"And you just..." Larry steps on the break, the red light too bright. "You just _walked home?"_

"...yeah." Connor says, looking like he doesn't quite believe it, himself.

"With an injury _like that?"_ The puddle's gotten a little too big, it's begun to stain the white hemming of Connor's briefs. "Where was the librarian?"

The light goes green. "...on their break." Connor sounds unsure at this, and touches at the front of his thigh, where the long pink line is. Larry doesn't like the pauses.

"I see." He makes another turn.

A brief silence, as they pull into the nearly empty car park.

"Dad, it's not that bad." Connor says, as Larry pulls the keys out.

"Yes, it is." Larry grits out, opening his door. He shivers as the cold air infiltrates the barely heated car.

"No, it isn't." He tries to insist.

"If you believe that, why'd you get into the car?" Larry says. Connor stares at him.

Then he scowls, and opens his own door. "...that's stupidly reasonable." He mutters, climbing out, and slamming the car door. Larry gives the puddle of blood a quick look as it sits on the leather.

"Our family is kind of like that." Larry says, closing his door. "Now, come on."

They walk through the automatic doors into the quiet emergency room.

Some of the nurses behind the counter look up as they enter. As do other people waiting.

"Can we help you, sir?" Asks the one with the glasses. She looks about Connor's age. Must be an intern.

"Yes. My son has got a very large cut on the back of his thigh. Deep enough that I believe it needs stitches." Larry says.

The nurse with the glasses gives Connor a surprised look. "Oh, hi, Connor." She says.

"Hey, Dana." Connor gives her a little wave, smiling a little. She glances between them. Larry's sure they make a pair, with Connor in a t-shirt and blood-stained briefs, and Larry in pyjamas.

"You'll need to fill in these forms. I'll send someone to get you once you've finished." She hands Larry a clipboard and a pen. "Take some tissues."

Connor grabs a handful of tissues, gives Dana a brief smile, and presses the handful against his thigh as he sits down. Larry sits down beside him.

This isn't like the emergency rooms in soap operas. Then again, Connor isn't dying.

"You seemed to know her." Larry begins, conversationally.

"She goes to my school." Connor shrugs. "I have chemistry and history with her."

Larry didn't know Connor even showed up to chemistry. "I see."

Larry looks up at Connor as he puts down his signiture, and Connor tucks some hair behind his ear.

At first, Larry thinks it's a bruise. Like a got-punched-in-the-neck bruise.

And then he sees how it speckles off, the way it's shaped, the colour. Larry's seen enough of those in his life to know what it is, at second glance, but that doesn't mean he was expecting it.

"So," and Larry has to clear his throat, because Connor turns to look at him with wide, innocent eyes. Larry can't help but glance at it again. "Where'd you get the hickey?"

Connor's eyes widen and he slaps a hand to his neck, cheeks flushing dark pink. He gains his composure and sinks in his seat. "Same place as you got me." He mumbles, a soft smile on his face. "Accidentally, on a golf course."

Larry stifles his laughter, and replaces it with incredulity. "I thought you were at the library?" He says.

Connor doesn't answer.

"Care to tell me who?" Connor scowls at the linoleum floor. "Was it Alana?"

"Dad," he sighs, "I'm gay. Remember? Alana's a friend. It wasn't Alana."

"Right," he says, feeling stupid, again, and sees Connor's calculating look. "Okay."

At this, Connor blanches. "'Okay'?" He asks, incredulously. Obviously he's remembering how taken aback Larry had been when he'd first come out. He hadn't exactly been supportive, (in fact, he doesn't think he made the right impression at all), but if Larry's going to be better at this, he can't deny his son's sexuality.

Larry shrugs. "Okay. I don't really think there's more to it, than that. Unless you want to tell me who it was."

His son flushes down his cheeks and neck, a trait inherited from Cynthia. "I-I don't really-"

 _"Connor?"_ Says a new voice. Both Larry and the boy in question look to the blonde nurse who is standing in the doorway. She gives Connor a confused look. "What are you doing here? I thought you were with...?" She trails off, and there's mild fear in her eyes.

"It's okay." Connor says, hastily. "I'm okay. Just had an accident at the library."

The fear fades, the nurse nods her head, and holds her hand out to Larry. "Here, hand me those forms."

Larry gives her the clipboard and the pen and she flips through it quickly, nodding.

"Connor, can you show me this cut?" She asks, not unkindly.

Connor stands up, and am winces, pulling the blood soaked tissues away from his thigh. The nurse gives the cut an incredulous look.

"Okay. I'll take you down to see a doctor. It's deep enough that I think you'll need stitches." She flips through the clipboard again. "Mr. Murphy? Can you get some more tissues? I'll be right back."

The nurse bustles off to the front desk and Larry fetches more tissues from the coffee table in front of them.

"Who was that?" He asks, kneeling by Connor's chair and helping him apply the tissues to the cut. Connor winces a tiny bit, and then sits down, heavily against the chair. He looks tired.

"Uh, Heidi Hansen." He says. "Evan's mom."

Everything seems to fall in place. Evan and his mother moved into town when Connor was ten, and they hit it off immediately.

If Heidi was expecting Connor to be with someone, and the hickey was anything to go by. (Plus the fact that right after Connor met Evan he stayed in his room for three days playing _I've Just Seen A Face_  by The Beatles until Larry threatened to snap his CD. Larry just thought the events weren't linked, that Connor's sudden isolation and repetitive song choice were separate and independent of each other.)

The only unexplained thing is why she looked so scared.

Larry sighs, helping Connor press the wad of tissues to his thigh. "Evan, huh? He on the golf course with you?"

Connor freezes. "Dad..."

"I'm not dumb." Larry says, sitting back in his own chair. "If he's who you wanna be kissing, I won't stop you. And it's not like you can get him pregnant."

"Dad!" Connor exclaims, sitting up and giving him the most incredulous look he's worn in possibly years.

"But be safe." Larry continues, watching Connor go redder and redder. "STD's aren't limited to heterosexual intercourse-"

"Oh my god." Connor moans from behind his hands, obviously mortified. "Please, _god,_ stop."

"Are you being safe?" Larry asks him.

Connor looks at him through the gap of his fingers. "We haven't even-" he begins to say, and then Heidi returns.

"Connor? Mr. Murphy?" She gives them both a surveying look and then beckons them towards her and the sliding doors across the room. "Please, follow me."

Connor gets stitches, gritting his teeth and gripping Larry's hand for lack of anything else to grab.

Heidi stops them on their way out, pulling Connor aside. Larry only hears about half of it, hissed by Heidi. Something about _I want to know where the fuck Evan is,_ and _you said it wouldn't be that dangerous,_ and _if Evan gets hurt-_

And Connor grabs her arm, looks her dead in the eye and whispers something that Larry can't hear.

And then they part, and Connor's back at his side, limping a little, now.

Larry doesn't ask about it until they're halfway home. "What did Heidi talk to you about?"

Connor grimaces at the windshield. "Just wanted to know where Evan was."

"And where is he?" Larry asks. Rain starts to speckle the windshield. He flicks on the wipers.

"Home." Connor says, simply.

Connor doesn't say anything else, and when they get home, goes straight to bed.

He leaves his backpack in the car.

Larry sees it there, the next day, when he's about to go to work. He sits there, in a mental battle, wondering if he should unzip it, see what Connor was obviously trying to hide from him, last night.

Instead, he takes it inside, drops it by Connor's bed while he's still sleeping, and goes to work, trying to forget that Connor ever tried to hide anything from him.

~

 **Connor:** no, i'm not kidding, i had to get stitches. ask your mom. she was there.

 **Evan:** Honestly, you couldn't just insist he stay out of the room?

 **Connor:** you think i didn't try? he didn't give me a choice. after we got home last night, i had to pull them out before i got another huge scar.

 **Evan:** Fuck. He caught you coming home?

 **Connor:** yep. he almost saw the suit but i zipped up the bag in the nick of time.

 **Evan:** It was pretty close last night. With your dad, I mean.

 **Connor:** no, i thought you meant when the librarian turned out to be an umbrella villain fucko and hurled me across the library, and impaled my leg on an abstract art statue, and nearly crushed me under a bookshelf.

 **Evan:** Hardy-har. I'm laughing so hard.

 **Connor:** whatever. he's making me stay home, today.

 **Evan:** Do you want to come over? I'll tell mom that I'm feeling sick.

 **Connor:** you don't think she'll be suspicious?

 **Evan:** Oh, she'll be suspicious, alright. But I think she'll understand.

 **Connor:** already on my way over.

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all thought I forgot about my Spiderman AU, didn't you? Surprise!
> 
> So, if you liked this, please drop me a comment, telling me what you liked/found interesting, and/or leave me a kudos. You can hmu on Tumblr @nose-coffee, and yell at me about DEH.
> 
> Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it, bye!


End file.
